


The Shirt Off Her Back

by likebunnies



Series: The Laundry Stories [2]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Laundry, Out of Character, PWP without Porn, Partners to Lovers, Post-Season/Series 02, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 12:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4877374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likebunnies/pseuds/likebunnies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abbie comes home to find Crane doing the laundry.</p><p>Edited on 10/01/2015 after seeing the latest promos. There are spoilers for season three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shirt Off Her Back

**Author's Note:**

> The first Sleepy Hollow fic I wrote back in October of 2013 had Abbie washing Crane's one and only shirt. After seeing the season three promo with Crane staring at a piece of lingerie, I figured it was time to update their relationship. Especially if they start living together...

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It seemed like just yesterday that Abbie was doing his laundry, carefully washing that one sad shirt he had as gently as possible, hanging it up, and waiting for it to dry. He would sit on her couch and they would discuss how they got into their latest mess or they'd watch a movie, Crane trying to catch up on all those years of entertainment he had missed. Or he'd try to catch up on history, watching a documentary on Netflix while Abbie added her two cents to the narration. 

Then along came Caroline and her crush on him and it suddenly seemed like Crane had more clothes than Abbie did. Corbin hadn't found it necessary to put in a washer and dryer in the cabin and Abbie wasn't ready to set Crane loose in the laundromat without a chaperone right away. She would be at work and he would wash her few pieces of laundry while he did his. She'd come home to find her clothes neatly folded or hanging up and it was actually nice not to have to deal with it herself. 

Abbie would still wash her delicate undergarments herself, putting them in a separate basket so Crane couldn't get his hands on them. Sure, he could wash the sports bras she wore most days – he had already seen her in one once – but the other stuff, she preferred not to have him looking at. Well, not yet anyway. Someday. 

Now that they were living together, it seemed like a waste of water to do their laundry separately. It was like the dishes and vacuuming and other chores around the house – they took turns. 

But that didn't mean she expected to see him gazing longingly at one of her sheerest pieces of lingerie. 

“Crane?” 

“This is not... as it seems,” he said, as surprised to see her as she was to see him. He crumbled up her sheer and, frankly, expensive camisole in a little ball in an attempt to hide the fact that he was indeed staring at a few seconds ago. 

“Oh? Then what is it?” she asked, cocking her head to the side and waiting to hear his long, drawn out explanation that probably involved the Battle of Saratoga and Benjamin Franklin. 

“I... why are you home so early?” he asked, turning this around on her. 

“Forgot my lunch. Now what were you doing with my fine washables?” she asks again, enjoying watching his face turn pink, especially when he realized he was still holding the tiny slip of fabric in his hands, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. 

“I was admiring the fine workmanship. The material is so delicate. So sheer. I was reading the instructions on the label so I didn't destroy it when I washed it. And I was wondering who–”

“That's really none of your business but right now... no one. A woman sometimes likes to wear nice things. To feel something soft and silky against her skin. Do you like the feel of that?” she asked. He nodded without really thinking and Abbie laughed. “So do I. Against my skin. With nothing else.”

She didn't know what kind of game she was playing. Maybe she wanted to see him turn and run to his room. Maybe she wanted him to beg her to put it on. Maybe after all this time she just really wanted him. 

And that was scary as fuck to admit. 

He looked at her, his eyes locked onto hers, and he held out the lingerie. “Then put it on.” 

She had to wonder what kind of game he was playing. A second ago he was blushing and fumbling with words. Now he was suddenly Captain Crane. Well, Captain Crane holding ladies' underwear. But just as commanding. Just as confident. Abbie felt the room suddenly grow warmer. A lot warmer. 

He didn't ask again but cocked that damn eyebrow at her as he shook the camisole once in her direction. Just one little shake. That's all it took and she was reaching for it. 

No, Abbie. 

That was her brain talking. 

Yes, Abbie. 

That was a lot of other parts talking. A lot more parts than just one brain. A brain that didn't seem to be in charge anymore. 

Why was this happening now? They had been living together now for a while and went about sharing a bathroom and a kitchen and the couch and never before had he waved lingerie at her and asked for her to put it on. Never before would she have been willing to go along with it. But here she was. 

She set the camisole down on the top of the washing machine and turned away from him, pulling off her shirt and setting it aside. She didn't have on her typical sports bra and reached behind her to unfasten the hooks. She was hoping he'd reach out and help but he didn't. Abbie pulled the camisole on, looked down at her breasts through the filmy fabric and when she was satisfied with how everything appeared, she turned around. 

Crane tried not to be obvious about sucking in air but he swallowed a deep breath. He looked at her with wide-eyed wonder, like a teenage boy seeing breasts for the first time. His left hand twitched and she knew he wanted to touch but she also knew he wouldn't do that without permission. She nodded her head and he reached out, a fingertip tracing the thin strip of satin at the top edge. He moved slowly, his finger barely touching her skin where it met the fabric, but it was enough. Her nipples hardened against the material and she could tell he noticed by how his tongue briefly licked his upper lip. She wanted that tongue on her. 

One of the spaghetti straps fell down her shoulder and Abbie shivered when he gently and reverently put it back in place, his knuckles barely brushing her skin. 

Abbie reached out and played with the laces on his shirt, wrapping them around her fingers. She used them to drag him closer and they stumbled toward each other. He pulled her into an embrace, his arms wrapping her tight against him. He towered over her, like usual, and her cheek rested against his chest. She could hear his heart beating fast. Crane kissed the top of her head and squeezed her again. 

She pulled away to look at him. His eyes were a deep blue and feral, like a barn cat ready to pounce. Abbie was certainly ready to be pounced. 

He took control again and picked her up, his hands under her ass. With one quick turn, she was on the dryer, and he was shoving the folded laundry onto the floor. Her legs wrapped around him and she pulled him close again. 

“Lieutenant. Abbie...” 

Crane brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and stared into her eyes. 

“This was never my intention when I invited you to stay here,” she said. She wanted to make that very clear. 

“I know.”

“But when you were gone, I missed you and your rambling speeches and every maddening, crazy quirk,” she said, taking his hand in hers. 

“I have crazy quirks?” he asked, smirking. 

Abbie gave him a look and pursed her lips and now he smiled. She loved it when he smiled or laughed. He certainly didn't do it enough lately. She tugged his shirt from his breeches and he raised his arms as she pulled it over his head. She tossed it with the rest of the clothes and she traced the scar over his heart with her fingertips before leaning in to nuzzle his neck. He was salty and tasted of warm linen and Tide. He let out a guttural moan as she sucked at his skin and kissed him, working her way up to his earlobes. 

His hair was still long enough to be in the way but he tucked it behind his ears with a quick motion. Abbie kissed him on the forehead and then on each closed eyelid and his cheeks. Then finally, finally on the lips. 

It was soft and sweet like getting to know each other again. Not that they had ever kissed before. He ran off before anything like that could ever happen. But Abbie didn't feel like she was kissing some stranger on a first date. This felt like where she belonged. This was... home. They were home together. 

Her mouth opened and his tongue moved across her lips before everything became a lot less friendly and a lot more passionate. He was as hungry for her as she was for him – if that was possible. His hands slipped under her camisole and he cupped her breasts, her nipples hard against his palms. He didn't go to remove the piece of clothing that started this whole thing. No, he left that on her but soon moved his hands down to unfasten her pants. 

God, this was fast. It was all moving so fast but... it had been years that they had known each other. She would never admit it to anyone but she wanted this for most of those years. She would never act on it while he was married. Abbie wasn't that kind of woman. But now, he was free. Free and living with her. And she was free to take him. 

Crane stepped back as she pulled one leg up and then the other to remove her boots and the socks under them. He did the same with his own tall boots and long stockings and stood before her again. He didn't look tentative at all. No, he was the tomcat in charge of the barn. She'd see how long that lasted yet. She'd have him purring yet. She owned this barn. 

Abbie wriggled out her black pants until she was in nothing but the camisole and the black thong she had chosen to wear that morning. The cold metal of the dryer met where she was now so very hot and it felt wonderful. He sank to his knees and parted her thighs, kissing up one leg and then down the other, skipping everything in the middle for now. 

She lifted her ass up off the dryer and he tugged the scant bit of fabric down her legs, playing with it before setting it aside. Crane looked up at Abbie, his eyes so hungry for her, before putting her legs over his shoulders and pulling her toward the edge of the dryer. His tongue then lapped up against her where she needed him most, like a cat presented with a bowl of delicious sweet cream. 

Crane moved his mouth against her clit and oh God – his fingers – in and out of her and she threw her head back, thankful the shelf was over the washing machine and not the dryer. She wrapped her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. There was no way to be closer. Not yet, at least. 

Crazy. This was so crazy and afterward they were going to have to deal with each other day in and day out but she didn't care. She'd deal with the repercussions later. Maybe this time she'd disappear for a while. He sucked her clit into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue. 

Or maybe she wouldn't disappear at all but would demand this every damn day for the rest of her life. 

With his fingers, he pushed up at the perfect angle and she refused to ponder on how he learned all of this. She would just enjoy what others had taught him. And enjoy it she did. 

She was close. So goddamn close That arrogant and pompous mouth of his was doing this to her. It was wonderful and she knew he'd be even more smug later. For a few blinding seconds, that didn't even matter as he did everything just right and she came. Came so hard that her legs jerked and tightened around him, holding him there. He didn't let up and kept fucking her with those long, magnificent fingers. 

When she could catch her breath again, she pulled him up from between her thighs and grabbed one of the towels from the basket so he could wipe her from his face and beard. While he was doing that, she fumbled with all the damn buttons on his pants, finally getting them unfastened and tugging his breeches and boxers down over his slender hips. Other parts of him were anything but slender and she couldn't help but staring, her eyes moving from that line of hair that led downward to his cock, already hard and ready. 

Admittedly, it was the first 18th Century British cock she had seen in a while. Or ever. She was used to American guys and their still customary lack of a foreskin. Times were changing but this was the first intact one she had seen. She reached out for him, but hesitated and he sensed it. Taking her hand in his, he showed her what to do, how to retract it and exactly what he liked. She spread around the drops of fluid coming out of the slit and wrapped her hand firmly around him. 

It wasn't long until he was thrusting into her fist, his hips so rhythmic and perfect. And she wanted him inside of her so much he could make her beg if he wanted to. She looked him in the eye and smiled. 

“Captain,” she said and he nodded. 

“Do you want me in you, Lieutenant?” he asked, sounding as stern as a man could while someone was jerking him off. 

“You know I do,” she said, releasing him from her grip and wrapping her legs around him. 

In one swift move, he was in her and she moaned from the sensation. It wasn't like she had gone ages without sex but this was not just filling but... fulfilling. Having Crane in her was far more satisfying than anything else she had done in a long time. 

He fucked her hard on that dryer but she knew it wasn't just fucking. She could tell by the look in his eyes. Could tell that deep down he loved her as much as she loved him even if they weren't ready to admit it to each other yet. Living together was one thing. Love? That was frightening. 

She held onto him as he thrust into her, her arms wrapped around his neck as she tried to hold on tight for this ride. He didn't stop for a second, didn't miss a beat. He just stared into her eyes as he continued to sink into her over and over again. Abbie tightened all her inner muscles around him and he made a mewling sound. Almost a purr. She knew she'd have him like that. She slid her hands down his back to his firm, round ass and she squeezed. 

That was enough. He was coming inside of her and calling out her name. Not Lieutenant. Not Miss Mills. But Abbie. Abbie over and over again. A prayer. A wish. A song. A welcome home. 

He collapsed against her, his head on her shoulder as he panted and spoke her name several more times, each time softer than the last. It was like he was trapped somewhere between being Captain Crane and whatever he was now. One moment so commanding and the next, needing her more than anything. 

Crane kissed her neck and played with the strap on the camisole. This damned or magnificent camisole that started this all. She would have to see how she felt about it when they had to continue dealing with each other for... forever. He didn't pull out of her right away and she liked him there, filling even more parts of her life. 

Looking at her, she knew he was seeking reassurance that they were going to be okay. Their partnership was going to be fine whether they were friends or lovers. She could see he was just a little afraid of losing her, too, after every other loss he had already faced. And maybe she was also afraid of losing him.

She placed her hands on his face and brushed his cheeks with her thumbs. “Next time,” she said and he looked instantly relieved as he swallowed hard, his eyes flickering away briefly before meeting hers again.

“Next time what, my love?” he asked, folding her into an embrace. 

“Next time maybe we can try it on top of the washing machine,” she said, with a wicked smile. “With it on the spin cycle.” 

“Or... the kitchen counter?” he asked, his smile matching hers. 

“Oh, yeah. There, too.” 

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The End


End file.
